Notes for her Soul
by bookworm26
Summary: He is playing her. In the exact same way he plays his piano. With passion and need. The invisible notes echo through the space between them. It tears her apart. HC. Set after Role Model and beyond.


Notes for her Soul (1/1)

Title: Notes for her Soul

Rating: PG-13.

Summary: He is playing her. In the exact same way he plays his piano. With Passion and need. The invisible notes echo through the space between her. It tears her apart. HC. Set after Role Model and beyond.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

She stopped at his doorstep, her hand ready to rap on the door. She stops. She can hear it through the window. It's soft, almost mournful, and it rings through her ears. She recognises the song. High hopes. It's what neither of them have.

She steps over to the window and slowly looks in. She can see him now. He is sitting at the grand piano, pressing his fingers on the keys. It's almost painful to watch. She can make out the numbers blinking on the answering machine. All from her. He never did pick up. Somehow she had known this. He wouldn't make this easy.

She sees him sigh and look down at the ivory keys. He is almost willing them to continue playing. He doesn't have the effort. Neither does she.

She straightens up, her stomach tightening as she takes a step back to the door. She knows she has to do it. It's the only way she will be able to move on. He's playing her, the exact same way he plays his piano. With passion and need. She can hear it. She can feel it. She knows it will never change.

She knocks. He answers. It changes.

Cameron was sitting in her designated chair at the table in the diagnostics office. She was the only one in there. Yet somehow, she didn't feel alone. She could see him through the glass.

House sat in his office, his bad leg propped up on his desk and his head rested on the back of his chair. His iPod was blaring into his ears, and his eyes were closed. She stared at this.

Cameron couldn't picture how this situation would turn out. And she was tired of over-analysing it. But she couldn't help it; it was almost like an addiction. And as much as she hated being drawn to him, she couldn't get herself to attempt to prevent it.

She knew, even a year on, that he was still playing her. She could see it. She could feel it. She didn't want to hear it. Every note he played tugged on her heart strings. He knew this. It was the reason he did it.

Yet it had changed. Every note still tore her apart, but the key had changed. It was still mesmerising. It was still invisible. And she still couldn't bring herself to make it want to stop.

She still stares. He pretends not to notice. And the invisible notes echo through the space between them.

His eyes are closed, but he can still feel her eyes on him. She's over-analysing him. It is making him uncomfortable, but he know's its his fault. He did this to her. And he knows he won't be able to stop.

He plays his piano frequently. It reminds him of her. Of his game. He does enjoy playing with her emotions, but it's gone past that now. Now he can't bring himself to want to stop. It's enticing. The notes he plays are unlike anything he has ever played. It's because of her.

Slowly he looks up, meeting her gaze. She doesn't look away. It's a first. Another slight change. His eyes burn into her's. She realises that he is analysing their game too. And that he understands the change. The notes. That she is slowly coming apart.

Cameron stepped up to his doorstep later that night. She didn't know why she was there, or what she thought it would lead to. She just needed to understand. To hear him tell her the truth.

She could hear it again. Soft echoing notes, tracing the walls of his apartment and slowly being absorbed into the curtains. Cameron closed her eyes and breathed. The notes held no scent. It was just a game. And they were both playing.

Before she could compose herself to knock on the door, it clicked, and opened. She hadn't even heard him stop playing. It was constantly playing in her own head.

House stood in front of her, staring, as if he knew why she was here. He did. She didn't.

"You can't stop," Cameron said softly, though it wasn't an actual greeting. He understood all the same.

House continued to stare at Cameron, as he stood back to allow her to enter. She did. She walked over to the couch and stood, staring at the grand piano. The front door clicked.

"I know," House replied just as softly, not staring at Cameron as he stood near the door.

"Neither can I," Cameron said, a slight smirk in her voice as she slowly walked over to his piano.

House looked up, watching Cameron brush her fingers against the glossy wood. His eyes were stuck, watching her touch his piano. His life. She did it without permission. She always did. He never seemed to mind.

Cameron sat down on the bench, staring down at the ivory keys that were staring straight back at her. She pressed a key. A, she thinks. She was never much of a piano player. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head. Staring at her vulnerability. Through her. Like she saw through him.

Cameron smiled, and turned around to face him. She noticed he had walked a little closer to her now. It was a first.

"I don't want to stop," She said, staring him in the eyes.

House looked down. He couldn't look. At her. It tore him apart. He knew it tore her apart too, but she didn't waver her gaze.

He heard a creaking noise, and he looked up. She was walking over to him. She stopped. She was too close. Only an inch away.

"You play me," she whispered, "And I let you. I wish I wouldn't, but I can't. I don't want you to stop playing me. And I know you don't either."

House pressed his lips on Cameron's as soon as she finished her last sentence. She gasped slightly, before leaning against him, and grabbing his shirt. House dragged his tongue against her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, clinging to him for support. His cane was pressing against her back, but she didn't seem to notice, or care.

It was several minutes before House broke off the kiss, leaning back to stare at Cameron. She opened her eyes and stared back at him, breathing heavily through her swollen lips.

"I want to keep playing you," House said softly, staring at her.

She kisses him.

It's a game. Neither of them can stop. They won't. They can't. It's complicated, but at the same time simple. He plays her in ways he can't play other people. It's intimate. It's them. It's how they always will be.

The notes now echo around them. The space between is filled. And it plays. It never stops.

FIN


End file.
